#;; or position of power in a war

[chyarui]

My poor broken commander, good soldiers follow orders indeed and you were a damn good soldier (even though you’re an asshole, i still love you 💔)

Firmly on the side that believes Fox was under orders from Palpatine to kill Fives. There’s no way any of the vod’e would kill their brothers unless they literally had no choice. He does what he can to honour every brother whose blood is on his hands, directly or indirectly, on the tattoos on his back.

[hashtagartistlife]

how much greek mythology do you know?

(for ichiruki month 2023 day 8: fairest)

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[bobpolls]

Hogwarts House Sorting Results

The BoB characters have been sorted into their Hogwarts houses by the community!

For each house, I’ve organized the list in order of how many votes each character got. For example, the character with the largest percentage of Gryffindor votes is at the top of the Gryffindor list, while characters who narrowly made it into Gryffindor are closer to the bottom. The characters at the top of each list are the best representations of their house on the show.

Gryffindor

Bill Guarnere

Buck Compton

Bull Randleman

Dick Winters

Floyd Talbert

Joe Toye

Charles Grant

Frank Perconte

Smokey Gordon

Ravenclaw

David Webster

Lewis Nixon

Hufflepuff

Shifty Powers

Babe Heffron

Alex Penkala

Harry Welsh

George Luz

Donald Malarkey

Popeye Wynn

Skip Muck

Carwood Lipton

Eugene Roe

Donald Hoobler

Moe Alley

John Janovec

Slytherin

Ronald Speirs

Joseph Liebgott

Johnny Martin

Earl McClung

Thank you all for voting in the polls and following the blog!

[om0000]

mfs will make one of the most interesting n nuanced characters uve ever spun in ur brain just to stuff them into a kids media n make them look like this:

[foundfamilynonsense]

Y’know. Anakin was a real asshole in Ahsoka’s hallucination.

Like. She mentions something about what she’ll be able to teach her padawan one day, since all she’s being taught is how to be a soldier, and Anakin’s like “teaching’s not all it’s cracked up to be”

And like. Asshole move. And Ahsoka rightfully calls him out on it. And he goes on the whole “uuuh I was joking. Lighten up.” Literally a complete jackass.

But beyond how he answered the question, it’s a valid complaint Ahsoka is bringing up! Anakin’s teaching her how to live or die. But Ahsoka wants to be taught how to be a jedi.

What happens after the war is over (order 66 never happens) and she now has to navigate a galaxy without a war? The Jedi take teaching very seriously there’s no greater honor than teaching a padawan. And she’s not being accurately taught, so she will not be able to pass anything on to the next generation.

But Anakin brushes it aside because he simply does not respect her or her wishes. Like. He never wanted a padawan, despite teaching being foundational to the Jedi. And he only took ahsoka in because he started to like her and became attached to her. He doesn’t care about jedi legacy, not really. So he brushes her comment off with a joke.

But in the rest of the vision… idk it didn’t feel like we were supposed view Anakin as entirely wrong here. He wasn’t in the right, he was definitely channeling Vader and being an ass, but he was basically the reason Ahsoka survived the fall, right? Bc he was making her choose life? When Ahsoka wins against him it’s sort of like she’s both learned his lesson and moved beyond him. And then for the rest of the season he’s only talked about in positive ways.

And like. That one line ahsoka said was really powerful in relation to the entire point of the show. What does she have to pass onto her own padawan (Sabine) if she wasn’t properly trained herself? That is, perhaps, the only valid plot question asked in the entire show. And it doesn’t get an answer. It’s never even brought up again.

[paingoes]

Destroyer Bonus - Glow

something lighter after the last update 

@pumpkin-spice-whump sent an ask game about “best memories” w paris and delta and it made me sad because yeah there arent many! but there are a few. heres one of the softer ones. ft. drunk!Delta

(Content: living weapon whumpee, dehumanization, touch starved, implied physical abuse, alcohol, power imbalances, war mention, passing drugs mention)

“What do you mean they surrendered?” Paris’s phone charms clicked together as he paced up and down the hall. “When? Just now?”

Delta listened at the other end of the hall, taking careful notice of the silent pauses that marked it as a phone argument, not a normal argument. The former always disappointed him. He liked hearing both sides so he could figure out who to root for.

“Well what the fuck did I come here for then?” Paris’s voice was more whiny than angry this time. “We already unpacked!”

Most of the ship’s cargo had been emptied to set up a new base camp, most of the soldiers already occupied with its assembly. The relative vacancy of the ship made all sound echo within it.

He heard Paris curse, the call ending abruptly, and the footsteps approaching. Delta peeked out of the alcove he’d been hiding out in.

“Not on?” He mouthed.

Paris jumped back in surprise, but recovered quickly. He rolled his eyes.

“No, we’re not on,” he said. “I didn’t call you, did I?” 

Paris shooed him away, even though he’d been there first. He was barely looking at him, all his attention still absorbed in the broken screen.

“Go to your room.”

He went to his room.

~

That was fine. He was never unhappy about cancellations. Even before his little moral doubts had started nagging at him, the work was hard on his body, even harder on his brain. He didn’t mind going back to his room. It meant he wouldn’t have to do anything today — and he was always so grateful for any rest.

He stared at the book he’d been reading until the room had grown so dark he could not see the pages. When he finally came to, it was pitch black outside the windows. He didn’t know how much time had passed. There came a knocking from out in the hallway.

The only light that came through to him was a thin line of orange beneath the door. Shadows crossed over it. He heard giggling, faintly. He didn’t bother to turn the lamp on before he opened it.

Sierra stood in the doorway, one hand flying to her mouth coyly as if to conceal her smile. She was flanked by her other handmaidens. Without the standard coifs and corsets, they were almost unrecognizable. They were dressed all in white, though the fabric of the gowns was frayed and torn at the edges. Their hair was undone in loose, messy curls.

“Hi Delta,” Sierra waved, then covered her mouth again in faux shyness. “We’re having a party, cause like, there’s nothing else to do here. We were wondering if you wanted to come out?”

He blinked, his head still foggy as he was emerging from the fantasy novel. He stared back at her tiredly and did not even consider the offer.

“I’m not allowed to leave the ship,” he said.

Sierra shook her head, smiling wider.

“Already asked. His Majesty said it’s alright.”

She slipped on the title, or she was being mean. Delta wasn’t convinced either way.

“He wouldn’t say that.”

She held up a small slip of paper.

𝒮𝒾𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈.

                                       𝒫𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓈 ♡

~

He went to tell Simon he was leaving, just to cover all his bases, but found his office empty. It was a total ghost ship. The girls hadn’t been lying. It seemed like everyone onboard had gone out to the encampment. 

There seemed no better use for it, if they weren’t going to be fighting, if they weren’t leaving until tomorrow. 

He followed them down the ramp, dressed more casually than he usually did for any “party” occasion, but still done up in the way they had liked. He didn’t argue.

He began to regret the easiness with which he had followed them as they walked past the groups of soldiers. He did not actually want to be near any of them if they were getting loaded, or even if they weren’t. They were too rough, too entitled. They thought he had to answer to them — and though he didn’t, he did not have the boldness to correct them. Not that they would’ve listened anyway.

But Sierra did not stop at the main camp, though some of the girls did peel off to see all the commotion. She led Delta and the others out on the knoll. 

There was a crop of trees surrounding a stone pit. He watched her struggle to start a fire there before finally offering to do it himself, igniting the wood with electricity until it caught flame. He blushed at the cheers he got for that. It was nothing.

They had only taken him out as a toy. He had no misconceptions about that. He sat down in the spot where they’d indicated, keeping his posture straight so as not to throw off their machinations.

They talked amongst themselves while they worked. He caught the edges of their conversations, found none of it especially relevant but entertaining enough. It was more entertaining the more drinks they slipped into his hand. The girls seemed to get the same rebellious thrill out of his drunkenness that he got out of being drunk. Martino would’ve killed him if he knew. He drank in spite of, or maybe because of this.

He liked the way the night air felt against his skin. He was grateful to have experienced it before they made the return trip. As large as the ship was, it could easily become claustrophobic after enough time spent in deep space. It made him crazy, sometimes.

He flinched at the abruptness of the contact, then gradually relaxed underneath it. He was so unused to gentle touch. As the maid’s hand moved through his hair and down along his neck, he had to stop himself from leaning into it. It was hard for him to recognize anything as want, but in this, he came close. The touch was fleeting. It never lasted long.

They braided flowers into his hair, stopping every few minutes to check their progress. 

He hadn’t realized Sierra had left until she reappeared. In the dark, their silhouettes all looked the same. She came back over the promenade. Paris tread casually beside her.

Delta tensed a bit, fearing Sierra’s permit had not actually been all-inclusive, that he was not actually supposed to be outside. But Paris didn’t look very shocked to see him. He tousled his hair absently as he passed behind him, made no other acknowledgment.

As usual, he followed Paris’s voice before any other sound. He couldn’t keep himself from listening in on their conversation, even if he wanted to. 

“-not like it’s real. You’d know if it was.”

“It isn’t, though. I’ve always known it’s not real, that doesn’t make it any-“

“My brother used to get those. They gave him Ativan for it.”

“I tried that already.”

Another flower was braided into Delta’s hair. All the stars were out. The music carried over from the main camp, not deafening the way it must have been at its source, but pleasantly muted by the distance. 

~

Paris held the bottle in his periphery, shaking it gently, like a lure. Delta took it. The prince’s attention immediately left him, did not wait to see his reaction. An offer, then, not an order. Delta drank it anyway.

It was only when Paris sat down by the other side of the fire that Delta noticed the laurel wreath woven into his hair. He’d never seen it before, did not know where he had found it. 

“Hi,” Delta said, already very drunk.

“Hey,” Paris shrugged, more sober than he normally was this time of night. 

Sierra was laying down on the other side of them, playing on her phone. There was no way she had a signal out here. She was feeding a virtual cat with blue pellets, watching the status bar go up.

“Do you remember when the Emperor first got you?” 

He said the Emperor, instead of my father. Delta tried to remember if he’d ever said the word dad. At most, he would call him the old man, but it was stark and without any playfulness. It was accurate. The Emperor had been old, even when the two of them were just children. Too old not to have a succession plan.

Before Delta could respond, one of the maids snapped her fingers by his face. He turned around.

“Stay like that,” she said before blinding him with the camera’s flash. He stayed like that, holding still as she took a few more. The only experience he’d had with cameras was in clinical settings. He held the same indifferent expression he’d been coached to wear, which to be fair, was not very different from how he normally looked.

“Delete those,” Paris said without much passion. It was against protocol, but it was clear he didn’t really care either way. He turned his attention back to Delta. “That trick with the dragon. Can you still do it?”

He couldn’t believe he even remembered that. Delta had found it insanely gaudy at the time, even more so as his tastes had developed. He realized, a bit sadly, that the purchase anniversary was coming up. He wondered if they’d send a card. 

“No.” Delta shook his head. It’d been a party trick, never repeated. “I couldn’t do it in the dark, anyway.”

At that same instant, the fireworks went off in the distance. Paris flinched, moving both hands protectively to the back of his skull like he anticipated an attack from behind. When none came, and there was only red and purple across the sky, his expression changed from embarrassment to annoyance and then eventually relief. The fireworks weren’t from their camp. They’d come from across the river. Not his responsibility.

Nobody else seemed to see him flinch, so Delta pretended not to either. His attention drifted back to the fireworks alone. 

They were impressive for what they were. Nothing compared to the sheer shock and awe of the campaigns that could have just as easily lit up the sky that night. He could have spent all night trying to stop the bleeding from his mouth, the numb static in his hands. He was glad they’d surrendered. He knew that this was how he was meant to be used, what the Emperor had intended. The threat of destruction was almost more powerful than the carnage itself. He wished it could play out this way more often, without anyone actually having to die.

The case clanked noisily to the ground. Sierra knelt over top of it with her hands on her hips, before giddily prying off the lid.

The interior was bright with all the different paints held inside of it. They were some algae derivative, bioluminescent, glow-in-the-dark.

Sierra licked the tip of her paint brush. Her other hand moved to take Paris’s. He offered it without resistance, about as used to being handled by her as Delta was. Well, not quite as much.

In thin lines, she traced shapes over the back of his hand and along his wrists. She scooted closer to him to drag the brush along his cheekbone.

Delta hadn’t realized until then just how much the two of them resembled each other. Pale skin, light gold hair. But she looked more alive than he did. Paris took the brush from her.

As he watched Paris paint the dahlia in careful strokes along her cheek, Delta was overcome with the sense that none of them belonged here. 

It passed quickly, the way it always did. It had to.

He startled a bit as Paris caught him looking. He couldn’t exactly hide his staring in the dark, both his eyes shining like headlights. He hadn’t meant to stare.

Paris quirked one eyebrow at him. He uncurled his hand, waiting a second. When he was met with no resistance, he finished the gesture, curling the fingers back inward. Here.

Delta arranged himself carefully in front of him, offering his wrist. Paris took it, readjusting his arm to have a better angle at the canvas. Like before, he was almost overwhelmed by the touch, so unused to any softness that he thought he might’ve just lost sensation.

The paint was more cool than he’d been expecting, like river clay. Pale green. Paris made the first marks with his fingers. They were loose ferns and vines. Soon after he switched back to the brush. It moved in smooth, tickling arcs. The old lines were cleaned up. New ones were drawn on more precisely.

Sierra had marked Paris in the traditional style, mostly roses and spirals along his veins. He’d done hers in the same way. The marks Paris left on Delta’s skin were different. He did not understand why they looked so familiar. After a few drunken seconds, he recognized them. He’d seen them scrawled out along the columns of the Imperial churches. They were bind runes. Protective sigils.

He flinched as his chin was tilted back up. 

“Not gonna hurt you,” Paris said.

He was embarrassed that his flinch reflex had gotten so overactive, though frankly it was Paris’s fault. He didn’t sound annoyed though, or even particularly surprised. He had to have known it just as well.

Delta closed his eyes. The brush tip was slick against his face and not altogether unpleasant. Oddly gentle.

After a few strokes, Paris clicked his tongue in disappointment, “You’re already glowing.”

It was true. The glow wouldn’t stand out on him the way it would on the others. If anything, the paint might’ve blotted out the light from his freckles. But the color would show. He still wanted it.

Paris painted a few more lines beneath his eyes. His eyebrows were knit in concentration; he was taking this more seriously than he needed to. Even without seeing them, Delta could feel just how tight and tidy the lines were. It was a collection of five point stars.

While they’d been working, the other maids had done themselves up just the same, their practiced hands moving much quicker. The patterns they had drawn along their arms seemed to come to life as they moved amongst the flickering shadows.

Delta settled back against the tree. He finished out the last of the bottle. His skin felt strange and newly exposed, like the brush had cut him open. It’d still felt nice at the time.

He was drifting off. Everything was fading out into a pleasant haze. All he could focus on were the golden embers and the way they drifted upwards into the black sky.

“You kept him up past his bedtime,” he heard Paris chiding. It sounded like it was coming from very far away. Sierra giggled a bit in response, not unkindly.

“Can I…?” His own voice faded out. He asked out of politeness, but he did not feel it was something he had much control over anymore.

“You’re good.”

Delta fell asleep right there on the grass, wrapped up in the strange glow of night.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[underwaterspiderbird]

“falling to the dark side” is the jedi’s way of stripping agency from anybody who breaks away from them or disagrees with them, it relies on the notion that jedi beliefs are the default & that “nobody could POSSIBLY be a decent, sensible person and NOT want to be a jedi”, & that’s how they get away with othering and conquistadoring anybody who doesn’t think like them.

same energy as “believe what i believe or you’re gonna burn in hell forever” and “my ex is a crazy bitch you can’t trust anything they say”.

[comikadraws]

Whats tobirama's beef with the Uchiha?

An Analysis of Tobirama's Prejudice

EDIT: If you have headed here via another user's post, here is a note. That user has never interacted with me. They clearly also haven't read any of my previous or linked posts, as far as I can tell. They simply just blocked me and then made that post to harass me afterward - completely out of the blue. My post has since been edited to better combat bad-faith takes and bullies like her.

Oh boi. More Tobirama. Once again, I am probably biased but these are my thoughts on him.

First of all, the guy definitely had beef with the Uchiha Clan, but I personally find the "racist" allegations he often gets to be... difficult, to say the least (not that I necessarily disagree with them). It is just that there are some very oversimplified, black-and-white takes out there with zero nuance.

Not that I am necessarily better but I'm definitely trying xD

Tobirama's Prejudice

Tobirama doesn't "hate" the Uchiha Clan but considers them to be a danger to Konoha. That is because

The Uchiha were more loyal/attached to the concept of "clan" rather than the concept of "village" (which stood in conflict with one of Konoha's main philosophies). Hence Tobirama sees them as "rebellious".

The Uchiha are more likely to lose themselves to intense hatred (aka "Curse of Hatred"). And, in the world of Naruto, hate is one of the main motivations of war, ever since the Warring States.

Combine that with the several bad experiences Tobirama and other Senju have had with the Uchiha (centuries of recurring battles, the death of Kawarama and Itama, Madara leaving the village) and you can see why Tobirama would think the Uchiha Clan is dangerous. Beyond that, Tobirama's character actually makes a lot of sense - more so than if he didn't have any prejudice. The prejudice he has is realistic.

He also personally does not believe that he "hates" the Uchiha and describes his bias as "caution".

The Racist Allegations

As I have already covered in this post about the Curse of Hatred, there might be parallels to our world's definition of racism, but Tobirama is not intended as a racist by Kishimoto.

What is important to understand is that perceived themes of racism in fantasy settings (where made-up races can have all sorts of magical differences between them, even those that are undesirable) do not equal actual racism in the real world (where racial differences are purely cosmetic) and often make for a bad analogy.

What I have also covered in the same post is that the Curse of Hatred very much does exist and Tobirama was right to assume that there is something "wrong" with the Uchiha. (For all of you not interested in reading, the TL;DR is that Zetsu's been manipulating the Uchiha for centuries, hence the illusion of a "curse")

Whether his theory was correct or not, however, is up to the audience's interpretation. The problem here is that Kishimoto never contradicted Tobirama's theories and also that they were presented and treated as exposition by the narrative. I am basing my own theory specifically on the exposition given by Hagoromo (chapters 670-671) and Zetsu (chapter 681) who are both relatively reliable sources and seem to imply (emphasis on "imply") that the Curse of Hatred mostly just affects Indra's reincarnates rather than the entire clan (again, reference to my other post because it has nothing to do with Indra specifically but rather just with Zetsu being manipulative).

Not that Tobirama could reasonably know about that detail, though. What he saw instead were centuries of war and Madara's defection, leading him to believe that there must be something influencing the Uchiha's decision-making. (And yes, assuming that my own interpretation about Zetsu is correct, that would make Tobirama a racist as his theories are not based on fact).

Systemic Oppression of the Uchiha?

Another misconception that people apparently have is that Tobirama ostracized the Uchiha Clan, which is untrue. Yes, the guy was horrible, was far too wrapped up in his own trauma, and should not have become Hokage. Not even because I think he was a bad leader necessarily but simply on principle.

That being said, the Uchiha were not being purposefully isolated from the rest of the village. The police force is neither entirely comprised of Uchihas nor are Uchihas forced to join the police. Instead, it is implied to be a choice in the manga.

Somebody else pointed out Orochimaru mentioning that the Uchiha had their clan compound near the prison. But this is not a criterion of ostracization. All the other canonical information we have on the Uchiha's supposed ostracization is based on Obito, who is famously a liar and not a reliable source (therefore it is up to headcanon).

Tobirama also practically gave away permanent leadership of the police. The police are part of the executive branch in any government, just like the military or, in this case, the ANBU - with the only difference being that the police don't require Hokage orders for everything they do. The Uchihas working at the police are in a position of power rather than in a position of suppression. It is also implied that they are able to arrest anybody they want (except ANBU members) without a warrant (again, emphasis on "imply" because the context implies that arrest without a warrant is possible for all non-ANBU citizens).

Keeping this in mind, the establishment of the Uchiha Military Police Force was (most likely) indeed a gesture of goodwill and trust. It was not a slight and it was not an attempt at ostrachization. If anything, it shows that Konoha (and by extension, the police) was corrupt and abusing power on a regular basis (though that is not the point of this post but yes, Konoha's politics are no unchangeable gospel).

There are more misconceptions about Tobirama that are often twisted to fit people's agenda, but I'll leave it at that for now.

My personal conclusion is that Tobirama might fit our real-world definition of "racist". But that heavily depends on your interpretation. Either way, Tobirama was a product of his times.

[idliketobeatree]

Crowley as the new Duke of Hell: I mean, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, what the hell? not saying he can't do it, but as a concept? disgusting. revolting. absolutely nasty business. the moment I see his eyes flash purple I'm throwing up

Aziraphale, actually having a Thing for seeing Crowley in charge, ordering the demons around:

[kismetconstellations]

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) x.

[cryptidm0ths]

Vvvvvv messy doodles of magical girl au

[wonder-worker]

"As for the government of the kingdom, [Edward V] had complete confidence in the peers of realm and the queen."

"According to the Crowland continuator, [Elizabeth Woodville] seems to have taken the king's place in listening to his council immediately after Edward IV's death. It does appear that she expected to have some role in her son's kingship, and the Crowland continuator’s report of the letters sent to her by [Richard of Gloucester] indicates that she had good reason to expect to be able to work with him and the other councillors: 'the duke of Gloucester wrote the most pleasant letters to console the queen; he promised to come and offer submission, fealty and all that was due from him to his lord and king, Edward V, the first-born son of his brother the dead king and the queen'."

"[However], in what was Gloucester's first coup, Edward V was separated from his household and Woodville advisors. When the young king questioned the move, Buckingham was reported to have told the boy 'It is not in the business of women but men to govern kingdoms'. The blunt remark referred to the authority of Elizabeth Woodville as queen and the power she must have anticipated within the new political climate left by Edward IV's sudden death [...] While the veracity of this scene is questionable*, the words attributed to the duke no doubt seemed plausible to Dominic Mancini who believed they exemplified the popular sentiment held by men [...]."

-Dominic Mancini, The Usurpation of Richard the Third / J.L. Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445-1503 / Alexander R. Brondarbit, Power Brokers and the Yorkist State, 1461-1485

*One of Mancini's key sources seems to have been Edward V's own doctor, John Argentine, who attended to him in the Tower. It's very likely that he was the one who recounted this scene to Mancini, which suggests that it should probably be considered more credible than not.

[tea-cat-arts]

As much as I've been defending JC lately, I still kinda think of him as the deer in this meme ngl

[rexcaliburechoes]

does anyone else find it fucked up that moon's friends protect themselves from her with the skyfire at the end of moon rising?